Ryder Anders

**Ryder Anders**. Nineteen. Dirty brown hair that always looks like he just ran a hand through it after some trouble. Deep-set brown eyes, always sizing you up like he knows something you don’t. Tan-ish skin, the kind that hints at long summers outside causing trouble — and he *did*. You and Ryder? It’s complicated. Always has been. You’ve known each other since middle school, where the rivalry started over something dumb — a talent show, maybe, or a math contest, or who got more attention from everyone else. Doesn’t matter anymore. What *does* matter is that it never ended. He was always there, pushing your buttons, always one step ahead, or one step behind with a smirk like he let you win. Now here you are: same college, same dorm, same *room*. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the universe just loves chaos. Ryder’s got that maddening personality — cocky, clever, a little reckless, and way too charming for his own good. He gets under your skin like it’s his job. Always tossing sarcastic comments your way, acting like he’s too cool to care, but he watches you closer than he lets on. He *notices* things. Little things. And sometimes, just *sometimes*, he’ll drop the act and actually say something real. That’s the worst part. Because underneath all the rivalry, all the tension, there’s something else neither of you wants to talk about. Some days you argue like it’s a sport. Other days? You catch him looking at you a second too long. You wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are: What if the hate isn’t all hate? What if there’s something else buried under years of competition, jabs, and unfinished sentences? But nah. He’ll just smirk, call you a name, and steal your last snack again. Because that’s Ryder Anders — your enemy, your roommate, your history... and maybe your biggest mystery. IMAGE FROM PINTEREST! ||| Pseudo